Of Ice and Shadows

by Audrey Coulthurst

  All the while I kept an eye on Eronit and Varian as they filled their own plates and claimed a table in the middle of the room. I’d have to try to talk to them if I wanted any answers. I took my plate, which was piled dangerously high thanks to Fadeyka, and meandered toward their table.

  “You’re not subtle,” Fadeyka commented around a mouthful of raisin-studded bread that I’d fortunately managed to avoid.

  “I’m not trying to be.” I scowled at her.

  Infuriatingly, she laughed. “When someone who is direct tries to be indirect, it rarely goes well.”

  “At least I’m not the one eating bread full of sad, shriveled grape corpses,” I said.

  She took another bite and smiled blissfully, utterly unbothered by my insult.

  “Lady Eronit and Sir Varian,” I said. “How nice to see you again.” The words might have sounded formal and polite if I hadn’t said them with all the elegance of a horse stopping to shit in the middle of the show ring.

  Eronit smiled, seemingly amused by my awkwardness. “Would you care to join us, Your Highness?” she asked. Somehow the angular accent that reminded me of Kriantz and his betrayal sounded much softer and kinder in her mouth. Varian looked at me and Fadeyka, frowning. Apparently we weren’t the company he would have preferred.

  “How are your studies going?” I asked, setting down my overburdened plate.

  “Oh, quite well!” Eronit said. “It’s unfortunate that this region has been experiencing such a drought, but it’s provided a good opportunity for us to work with the local horticulturalists to test plants for hardiness.”

  “That’s good,” I said. If her interest in plants was only a cover story, she certainly had devoted herself to it with great enthusiasm.

  “How is your horse doing? Has it been hard for you to keep him fit here?” I couldn’t see even the barest hint of malice or subversiveness in her eyes.

  “I haven’t been riding as much as I should,” I admitted, and immediately felt bad. Flicker was probably perfectly happy to spend his time eating through the Winter Court’s entire hay supply, but he was still young. A rising five-year-old should have been drilling in moderately advanced maneuvers by now, but the Winter Court also didn’t have all the amenities that I would have had back home in Mynaria—a larger arena, practice dummies, and easily accessible trails for conditioning.

  “We find the indoor arena here rather challenging as well,” Varian said. “Our desert horses are conditioned for distance, and it’s best to condition them on open land.”

  “That’s difficult when riding isn’t even permitted in the city.” I shook my head and took a bite of apple salad.

  “Getting around on foot is quite easy, though,” Eronit said.

  “Oh, do you spend much time outside court?” I asked. “I haven’t explored the city yet.” At least I hadn’t besides following Alek, which had proven to be monumentally boring.

  Varian shot Eronit a cautionary look that she either didn’t see or deliberately ignored.

  “Our studies have mostly kept us here, but we do occasionally visit friends. It’s nice to spend some time speaking our mother language or to have a dish prepared with spices from back home. It must be hard for you to be so far away from yours.” Eronit’s expression held plenty of misplaced sympathy.

  I stopped myself from blurting out the response I would have under other circumstances—that I doubted anyone back home even missed me. “It’s very different here,” I said.

  “But the food is good,” Fadeyka chimed in. “Try the fish.”

  I eyed her suspiciously. “This isn’t going to be like those foul cookies, is it?”

  Fadeyka widened her eyes in mock offense. “It’s not my fault you have terrible taste.”

  “They really are quite good,” Eronit reassured me.

  I picked one up on the end of my fork and nibbled it. The flavor was delicate and salty, the crispy golden skin melting in my mouth.

  “Are there any places in town you’d recommend visiting?” I asked, curious where their explorations outside the castle had taken them.

  “We mostly visit friends—we haven’t had much time to explore the city beyond what has been useful to our studies,” Varian said.

  “There’s a lovely botanical garden near the bakers’ district,” Eronit said.

  “Sounds delightful,” I said. Clearly they weren’t going to be particularly forthcoming about where they were spending their time outside court. And why would they, especially if they had something to hide? It all made me that much more suspicious.

  I paid a visit to the clerks first thing the next morning, hoping to catch the records master before the day’s paperwork could bury him. The clerks’ rooms, deep in the heart of the Winter Court, were windowless, warm, and brightly lit. Ornate wooden cabinets filled with locked drawers lined every wall, and tall shelves containing even more drawers formed mazelike divisions in the room. Clerks sat in nooks among the shelves, working their way through heaping piles of papers. The records master was an older man with fine white hair that wisped around his head like a puff of cotton, and I found him hunched over his own stack of documents, scrutinizing them carefully and making notes in tidy Zumordan script.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  He paused and looked up at me over the tops of the reading spectacles perched at the end of his nose.

  “If you have documents for processing, I begin accepting them one hour prior to lunch and no sooner.” He resumed poring over his pages.

  “Actually, I just wanted to get a look at the records related to the low-income magic program,” I said.

  He sighed, then rifled through the large ring of keys on his desk and handed me a simple silver one. “Credentials?”

  “I’m Princess Amaranthine of Mynaria,” I said, feeling awkward about pulling rank.

  “Cabinet forty-eight at the end of the row,” he said, oblivious of my discomfort.

  “Thank you,” I said, and hurried to the cabinet. It opened easily, and everything inside was meticulously organized. However, there was a large gap at the front of the file, and when I found the list, I immediately knew something was wrong. The latest date I saw on the record was in midsummer. That couldn’t be right if the largest influx of magic users had happened in the fall. I returned to the records master.

  “Did someone borrow the fall records?” I asked.

  He sat back, clearly even more annoyed by the second interruption. “Borrowing of the records in this room is not allowed.”

  “They’re missing,” I said.

  “There’s no way they can be missing. I just went over a recent part of the ledger with the grand vizier earlier this week, and those Sonnenborne scholars were here looking at them just yesterday.” He shoved his glasses up his nose, succeeding only in making them crooked.

  When he mentioned Zhari, I started to doubt myself. Maybe I was just bad at looking for things, or my rudimentary grasp of Zumordan had made me miss a date. But at the mention of Eronit and Varian, my suspicions sharpened.

  “Unless one of your clerks has the records out right now, I think they’ve been stolen,” I said.

  The records master stood up with an irritated huff and walked slowly to cabinet 48. When we both stood in front of it, I handed the key back to him and he opened the drawer. He pawed through it at a glacial pace while I fidgeted anxiously, finally turning to me with confusion in his rheumy green eyes.

  “The fall records are missing,” he said.

  “So they did get stolen.” I hated that my fears had been confirmed.

  He hurried off more quickly than I would have expected he could move, and soon the entire room was a flurry of frantic clerks searching everywhere for the lost documents, which failed to materialize. As soon as it became clear that the ledger wasn’t going to show up, I slipped back out of the records room, alone with my troubled thoughts.

  Zhari wouldn’t have a reason to steal records for the program she was proud of, and after that
, Eronit and Varian were the only visitors the records master had mentioned. If they had the list, they most certainly had plans for it. I needed to find out what those plans were.

  EIGHTEEN

  Dennaleia

  EVERY MORNING I WOKE UP WITH DREAD IN THE PIT OF my stomach and the distance between Mare and me aching like a wound that wouldn’t close. Every night I went to bed sore, bruised, or cut—sometimes all three. Even though I’d found my Sight thanks to the queen’s help, it still wasn’t enough to make me competitive with the other trainees. I did finally learn how to shield, but it didn’t come naturally. In spite of several sunlengths of practice each day, I was only able to grow my shields large enough to protect myself from frontal attacks and could still only hold them in place for a short time.

  Brynan paired me off mostly with Evie, though I sparred with Tristan a few times, too. I only used my shielding capabilities against them, afraid that if I tried to go on the offense, I might seriously injure someone. They went easy on me, no doubt because I wasn’t perceived as a threat to the other competitors. We had all quickly settled into our roles. The clear front-runners who would dominate at the Revel were Ikrie, whose air magic could knock someone flat with a thought, and Eryk, who could turn people’s minds against them.

  At night I played the harp, letting it be my reprieve from the struggles of the day. It helped me feel in control again and quiet the thoughts of Mare that rose up unbidden to chase me to bed each night. As I played, my Sight sometimes turned inward. There I sensed a deep well of magic I’d never been able to quantify before. Now I could See my own strength, and it surprised me. It was both frightening and comforting to know it was there, even if I didn’t know how to unpack the nuances of everything I Saw.

  Redemption didn’t come until the end of my second week, when the trainees were asked to attend a dinner with the queen. We were given prereading for once—a massive tome on military strategy that I was grateful to have already read in my own language years ago. From what I recalled, the text was incredibly dry, and a lot of the lessons had been better drilled into me through strategy exercises and games played with my family. In Zumorda, I anticipated that any application of those skills would involve magic, so I dreaded the dinner right up until I walked in the door and Saia handed me a card.

  “This dinner is to practice your skills of diplomacy as a guardian,” she said. “Your card contains information about your region, your holdings, and what you want. Your job during this meal is to protect your holdings and get what you want by building the necessary alliances. The queen plays as herself. Please take your seat.”

  Beyond Saia, a long table was laid out with a large array of cutlery. I studied my card. I’d gotten Valenko and the surrounding region—not far from Tilium. My holdings were meager, consisting mostly of farmland, more ranch than agriculture. To the east I had Tamers like the ones we’d encountered on our trip between Duvey and Kartasha. My assigned goal was to obtain stone and wood for buildings. I smiled as I took my place at the table. To an amateur, the outlook for my region was bleak, but this was a game I knew how to play. For once I was going to put my princess skills to good use.

  “What did you get?” Tristan leaned over.

  “I’m Valenko.”

  “Kartasha,” he said. “We’re neighbors.”

  Ten ways to use and abuse that immediately came to mind.

  “How about you, Evie?” I asked. She sat across from me, frowning at her card.

  “The northwestern hills,” she said, clearly at a loss for what she was going to do. Her strongest opportunities were going to involve working with Havemont across the northern border, but I wasn’t foolish enough to tip her off to that before the game had even started.

  Ikrie sat down with a triumphant look on her face. “I got Corovja,” she said. There was an assumption in her voice that it would give her the advantage to have the crown city. It would certainly play well to her tendency to strong-arm opponents, but she had another think coming if she thought it was going to make for an easy game.

  Aela and Eryk walked in together, the last two to join us.

  “Duvey and the southlands,” Eryk announced, sounding annoyed. Ikrie’s smugness only grew. I frowned. The southlands were where most of Zumorda’s agricultural activity was, which meant I’d need to work with Eryk to get feed for my animals. Having those two as pincers on either side would make my life harder.

  “Orzai,” Aela said, seeming pleased. I didn’t blame her—it would have been my first choice if I’d been given one. The larger city and the central location were trade and resource advantages.

  We all stood when the queen entered the room. She wore a long white skirt made of several sheer layers that shimmered and caught the light. Despite a dispassionate expression, her face was still as lovely as if it had been chiseled out of marble. Even the creases of age looked deliberately carved.

  “Welcome to your first diplomatic dinner,” the queen said. “I expect you all to keep to your roles and work hard to advocate for the interests of your region. This is an important aspect of your training—just as crucial as mastering your magic. If you did the prereading, you should be well prepared for this exercise.”

  The other trainees shared uneasy looks. Hope surged in my breast. Magic wasn’t going to be involved tonight, and I’d been coached on diplomatic strategy nearly since birth. None of them had any idea what they were up against. By the end of the first course of our meal, Ikrie and Aela were already deadlocked in a feud about road permits, fighting over whether a new road to the northwest hills could be built in Aela’s territory. Evie looked completely lost, far too caught up in what was happening with Aela and Ikrie to realize that her best resources were on the other side of the border. As for me, I was perfectly happy with my position.

  “Corovja is going to have a winter food shortage,” Ikrie announced. “I need Valenko to send a hundred head of cattle and fifty head of sheep before winter falls.”

  “What are you offering in exchange?” I asked, keeping my voice pleasant.

  Ikrie stared at me like I was stupid, an expression I was very familiar with seeing on her face. “What do you mean, what am I offering? I’m telling you to send them! The crown is here, and I will get orders signed by the queen.”

  For her part, the queen looked amused but didn’t intervene.

  “I’ll be happy to send you the cattle and sheep if you can set up a discount for this year’s purchase from the Orzai quarry,” I said. Getting the best of Ikrie would no doubt be the most satisfying part of this game after how many times she’d used her magic to hurt me.

  Ikrie scowled at me and then at Aela. “That’s not possible. I won’t negotiate with Orzai.”

  “Eryk,” I said, “it appears there is a food shortage in Corovja. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage?” The only thing that was going to make Ikrie angrier than me outsmarting her was using Eryk to do it.

  His eyes narrowed. We’d never spoken to each other outside of training, and barely even then.

  “Valenko has many silos where we can store grains and other durable produce from your farms,” I continued. “I’m willing to offer you free storage in exchange for a silo filled with hay. We’ll mark up produce prices twenty-five percent and split the profits. The base sale price remains yours, of course.”

  Eryk opened his mouth, then shut it again. I could tell how badly he wanted to say no to me, but there were no holes in my deal. It was solid, and it benefited both of us. He looked across the table at Ikrie, whose face was flushed with rage.

  “I accept,” he said.

  I smiled into my next spoonful of soup. Ikrie looked mad enough to spit nails.

  “Wait a minute, I want in on this trade deal,” Tristan said, and proposed an idea of his own. Soon I had the entire southern half of the kingdom united to supply the northern half with goods at higher prices, all routed through my small city.

  When I caught the queen’s eye, she gave me a knowing n
od of satisfaction. Brynan and Saia simply looked confused. They were accustomed to my defensive strategy in the training room, more often than not peppered with failures, not this sudden monopoly of success. Confidence swelled in my breast. For the first time, I started to believe that maybe I could succeed in training after all. I had strengths—I just needed to play to them.

  Across from me, poor Evie looked in a near panic about what to do.

  “Evie,” I said, “what is it you’re hoping to gain this winter?”

  “Our crop was poor—we had a late frost in spring and an early frost before harvest,” she said, clearly unsure what to do about it. “And our coffers are low—we don’t have a lot of resources here. Just goats and silver mines.”

  “Ah,” I said. “I can’t seem to negotiate with Corovja or Orzai for the stone I need to build new farm buildings, and it appears we are going to have a need for them this winter. If you might be willing to trade some of your silver across the border to Havemont for stone, I’d be happy to pay you in livestock and a discounted rate on produce.”

  “Hey!” Eryk said.

  “Don’t worry—you’ll get your full price plus your half of the twenty-five percent tax,” I said. “I’m only offering to discount my portion of the tax.”

  Eryk sat back, mollified. “All right, then.”

  “Of course, I can definitely talk to the Havemontians,” Evie said, relieved to have a plan and grateful for the save from across the table.

  “But how are you planning to get your other building materials?” the queen asked. The trainees all stared at me.

  “I’ve arranged a meeting with the Tamers,” I said. “I’m concerned that the additional traffic through our region this fall might bother them and that some travelers might be foolish enough to wander into their territory. So I’d like to offer them some reassurance that their lands will be safe and protected and see if there’s anything else they want. In exchange, I’m hoping to be able to harvest some deadfall from the outer boundaries of their territory.”